


Hux saws off Kylo's arm- what happens next may surprise you!

by FurryHellspawn



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, starwars
Genre: Amputation, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Force-Sensitive Hux, Gorn, Hux is Not Nice, M/M, Medical Torture, Unconsciousness, Whump, sorta?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 11:14:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15605079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FurryHellspawn/pseuds/FurryHellspawn
Summary: Hux saws off Kylos arm to do some tests on force-sensitive cells post-Starkiller. Also, force disrupting collars may be involved a bit.





	Hux saws off Kylo's arm- what happens next may surprise you!

Hux works the hacksaw at a breakneck pace, applying the utmost care to the angle of the blade. The wet buzz of iron on marrow and bone fills the room where the incessant automated beeping of the heart rate monitor can’t, and he can feel the heady scent of hot pumping blood in his nose.  
Something about this situation, the rightness of it, the way kylo is wholly unarmed and defenseless for once in his pathetic life, makes Hux’s head spin just a little. His breathing quickens at the realization that he’s nearly there, hacksaw cutting back down into the wet, sinuous muscle of Kylo’s bicep.

Kylo is still, motionless under his straps and IVs and cuffs. The thick silver band cinched around his throat flashes green every once in awhile in a slow, syrupy rhythm in tune with his pulse. It cost a fortune on the back alleys of some shithole outer rim planet Hux'd managed to stop at while on his once-yearly shore leave. The vendor wasn't even entirely sure what the collar did, let alone what it was worth, but that didn't stop him from skyrocketing the asking price once he saw the FO insignia on Hux's lapel. It was worth every bit the price, however- for once in all the time he'd known Ren, he didn't at all feel the low buzzing din of the force swarming the inside of his skull. He stopped sawing for a moment and reached a surgical-gloved hand out, tracing his fingers along Ren's exposed throat gently, feeling the hot pulsing of blood and flesh under the latex. He shuddered, considering pulling back before he just finished Ren's pathetic life off himself, but moved his fingers onto the collar. It was smooth and surgically white, minimalist, magnetically locked and screwed shut with a personalized thumbprint scanner. The entire thing looked vaguely like an unusually thick necklace if not for the pulsing green glow. There was now a smear of blood across it, too. 

Hux's hand draws back, and he looks back down at the hacksaw. The arm is nearly amputated and there's a near zero chance of bleeding out considering the sheer volume of transfusions and tourniquet he's got on hand (some darker part of him considers just sewing the whole thing back on just to teach kylo a lesson on losing a fight, or maybe even just leaving it dangling by the thin strip of remaining skin that keeps it attached to kylo's shoulder out of spite.), but he knows he's got a damage assessment meeting with Phasma to get to in approx. 30 minutes. He backs up a little, wipes his palms off on his blood-stained apron, and grips on to kylo's amputated hand. 

He finds an odd thrill in this act of intimacy and shudders, stomach twisting, before shaking it off and getting to work. He tugs kylo's hand with both of his own, twisting the thin strip of skin that's left between the shoulder and arm until it's taught and bound up on itself. The blood is wrung out from it and runs down the length of Kylo's arm until it's dripping past Hux's gloves. It's cold. 

Hux braces himself, just enough to get a nice wide stance on the floor so he doesn't fall over, and yanks the hand towards himself hard- all his strength is working with him and he hears the sharp, moist tear of meat and muscle. The arm is limp except for his grip on the hand, and it falls to the operation-room floor with a sharp thud. 

Hux licks his lips, breathing heavy more from excitement than exertion, and wastes no time in picking up the hunk of limp flesh up from the floor. He slings it over his shoulder hand first, cradling it with one gloved hand while the other unscrews a pre-prepared tank of preservative bacta. Slowly, he lowers the arm in bicep first and carefully poses the fingers into an open palm. He takes another look at Ren, sleeping dreamlessly under his restraints and thin cotton sheet. 

Ren looks almost handsome, black curly hair framing his feverish pale skin, moles like stars across his cheeks. Hux takes care to screw the tank of bacta shut absentmindedly as he contemplates reaching out, feeling Ren's hot, sick skin against his own, taking Ren's pulse and-

He's brought back into the present by the constant beeping of the heart-rate monitor and rushes forwards to tend the open stump jutting out of Ren's shoulder. He swiftly bandages it, slathering it in bacta and undoing the tourniquet. Ren stirs again, a low whine rises from his chest and his face, moist with sweat, twist slightly. Part of Hux is enticed by this low sound, the utter helplessness he's witness to emitting from the strongest force user alive. Rabid curr, useless and harmless and- 

His holopad goes off, shrieking- time for the meeting, he supposes. He peels off and disposes of his gloves, removes his surgical apron and with near impossible precision locks the bacta-tank into an awaiting delivery droid. "Send this to my quarters," he says. He pauses, before adding "Delete the last 2 hours of surveillance footage." 

He leaves Ren's private medbay quarters without a second thought.

**Author's Note:**

> this is uhhhh my first ever Ao3 post OR my first fanfic so that's pretty cool. I don't have any plot to this one so far, so comment if you want anything in particular to happen and i might check it out.


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